


I'm Not Drunk, You're Drunk

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Supernatural Drabbles [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 23:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17010921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: You're drunk and so is Dean and for some reason, you both confess your feelings for each other and things get hot.





	I'm Not Drunk, You're Drunk

“What did you just say?” you said. You probably hadn’t heard him correctly, hadn’t heard Dean just tell you he was falling in love with you. All those shots were going straight to your head.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “You’re hearing things. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, you’re drunk,” you snapped. “Which means it won’t matter tomorrow if I tell you I’m falling for you, too. Because we’re both too drunk to remember any of this in the morning.”

Dean pushed his chair back and stalked around the table. He grabbed the arm of your chair and turned it so you were facing him. He stood over you, close enough that you could smell the whiskey and mint gum on his breath.

“Good,” he whispered. “Then I can do this.” He leaned in and kissed you, his lips pressed hard against yours.

“Definitely,” you agreed. “As many times as you want.” You fisted your hands in his shirt, pulling him closer.

“Bedroom,” he growled. “Now.”

Dean’s room was the first room you reached. You followed him inside, shedding your clothes as soon as the door was closed. He kicked off his boots and yanked both of his shirts over his head. He pulled you into his arms, his hands sliding down your back to cup your ass. You unsnapped his jeans and slid your hand into the front of his boxers. He moaned as you took him in your hand, your hand pumping up and down his hardening shaft.

He walked backward, wobbling a little, pulling you with him. You both fell to the bed when his knees hit it, laughing. Dean pushed himself up the bed until he was leaning against the headboard. You crawled between his knees, grabbed the waistband of his jeans and tugged them down. Once Dean’s clothes were off and on the floor with yours, you straddled him, took his head in your hands and kissed him.

He rested his hand on your waist, pulling you down against him, his hips grinding into yours, his cock rock hard against your slick pussy. You gasped as he slipped his hand between the two of you, his fingers delving into the soft folds of skin and sliding inside you. He crooked them in a ‘come here’ gesture, brushing against your sweet spot, sending tingling jolts of electricity through you.

“God, you’re so ready for me,” Dean murmured. He brushed against that sensitive nub of nerves again, his lips sliding down your neck to suck hungrily at your collarbone.

You groaned, rocking into his questing fingers, his cock brushing your clit, his fingers still moving inside you. Dean’s hips moved with yours, his cock sliding along the folds of your pussy. He pulled his fingers free, lifting and holding you over his erection, finally sliding into you with a load moan.

“I need you to move, Y/N,” he demanded. “I need to feel it. Fuck me, hard, sweetheart.”

You did as instructed, your hands on his shoulders, riding him hard and fast. His hands were so tight on your hips you were sure you would have finger-shaped bruises in the morning, but you didn’t give a shit. Not when you finally had Dean inside you.

Dean’s hips shot up and off the bed to meet yours, his cock slamming into you over and over until you finally came with a loud scream. Dean wrapped his mouth around your breast, thrusting deep inside of you, fucking you so deep you could feel it in every pore. He pulled you down hard, holding you tight against him as his own orgasm consumed him.

You collapsed against his chest, arms wrapped around him. “I’m not drunk enough to forget that,” you whispered.

“Me either, sweetheart,” Dean laughed. “Me either.”


End file.
